


Looks Are Cheap

by RaevynNocturne



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29257965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaevynNocturne/pseuds/RaevynNocturne
Summary: Prompt: How would the Doctor respond if he realized just how much you hated yourself? How little self-esteem you really have?
Kudos: 4





	Looks Are Cheap

**Author's Note:**

> As someone with absolutely no self-esteem, I wondered how this doctor would react. The character, although written as though it's the reader, it's based on myself. I have good qualities, but the only external thing about I like is my eyes. So I'm hoping that, by writing this, I can use one of my better qualities, and help one girl feel better about herself. Because, to be honest, I see both the actor Peter Capaldi, and his character, saying this. And if you can't hear it in his voice, you haven't watched enough if 12!
> 
> FYI:
> 
> [Y/N]: Your Name  
> _________________________________

You pluck nervously at the bottom of your extra large t-shirt, feeling as out of place as a goldfish in a bowl full of betas, and just as nervous.

"What's wrong?" the Doctor asks, when he realizes you've stopped walking towards him. 

This is only the second time you've gone with him in his time machine (TARDIS, you correct yourself mentally), and you're still nervous. And why not? He's tall, pretty handsome for an older gentleman, and seems almost always angry, but that might be the wild eyebrows. However, you also know that, for as mean as he appears, he tries hard to be nice, especially around you. He knows how badly he scared you the very first time you two met, because he was angry with someone else, and had been shouting, and that scared you. You didn't know if he'd hurt you or not, so you instinctively tried to hide against the side of the weird, blue police box he had exited from. You're not sure he even saw you, but you saw the person he actually was yelling at approach, start yelling back, and you tried very hard not to react. You were actually shaking when the other guy left, trying hard to hide how heavily you were breathing, when the Doctor noticed you cowering in the corner. He started to say something, and noticing how scared you are, put his hands up, and calmly asked if you were ok, but you were too scared to reply. You hate being like this, but you hate being around angry people, because even though you've never been hit before, there could always be a first time. He tells you softly that he's going to open the door, and asks if you'd like to come in, so you both can talk. You nod slightly, and follow him inside... And it's bigger on the inside. You talk for a couple of hours, where you learn his name (or title, rather, as he didn't give actually give you his name, just the Doctor), and learn about his TARDIS (Time And Relative Dimensions In Space). He's careful not to get too loud, or do anything to spook you, for which you are immensely grateful. He even invites you to go on an adventure with him, go anywhere in time or space, so you agree, and he takes you to see a nebula, while floating in space.

"You said dress comfortably, but I wasn't sure if this would be adequate," you reply, bringing yourself back to the present. Long, baggy jeans, baggy t-shirt, and sneakers are your preferred attire, but you feel underdressed, standing next to him in his crisp white, button up shirt, dark blue trousers, matching blue overcoat with surprisingly red inner lining, black vest, and black boots. He looks you up and down, hands in his pockets, and smiles, a little sadly you think, and leans against the console.

"Are you comfortable?" he asks.

"Well yeah," you reply.

"Then that's all that matters. Don't worry, we're not going anywhere where how you dress will matter," he says, smiling broadly. You've always enjoyed his smile, especially when his eyes light up, eyes you learned are almost exactly the same as yours 

He silently finished imputing the coordinates to wherever it is he wants to visit, and pulls the lever. You rather like the odd sound the TARDIS makes, and can't help but smile; he smiles softly from across the console, careful to hide it from you. He knows you're a bit of a mess emotionally, so he's trying to be gentle with you, and he's not sure how'd you'd react if you knew how much he loved your smile; he would hate to think you'd react poorly, and stop smiling around him, so he's willing to wait a while before saying anything.

"This way then, My Lady," he says, pointing towards the doors, causing you to smirk and giggle a little. You smile and nod, and exit, with him following behind, locking the doors. 

You spend the day wandering around a large market, resting as often as you need, since standing, much less walking, for a long time is very difficult. He doesn't seem to be in a hurry, for a change, and you try to enjoy the market as best as possible, although your anxiety about being around so many people makes that difficult at times. But it seems as though he understands this, so he pulls you off to sit down when you start feeling overly nervous, almost as though he knows how you're feeling. It's nice, if a little strange. And you even managed to get him a nice present, a mug painted to look like a gorgeous nebula, for little more than a smile, although you're suspicious of that alone; but the vendor said it was the highlight of his day, and said you could have it. The man wraps it up for you, after you inquire, in a beautiful black and purple silk scarf, so you can give it as a gift, thankful the Doctor wasn't there to see it, he was two stalls down, always in eyesight, but not hovering unless you wanted him to be. Stuffing the mug in your pockets, laughing mentally at the idea of such a large object in your pockets and it not being a giveaway, you walk over to the Doctor, and smile up at him when he sees you, happy when he smiles back. He resumes his negotiations with the merchant, and you suddenly realize you can understand what they're saying, but you don't know how. But you decide not to say anything, afraid he'll chastise you for being a "pudding brain", even though you laughed the first time he said it; when he looked strangely at you, you explained that you just liked how he said it, because you liked his accent. He smiled, part confused, part amused, and chuckled in response.

"Ach, my throats parched now, shall we stop and get something to drink?" he asks, with a wink at you, which makes you chuckle, and him to grin broadly. You wait at a table while he orders the drinks, and are surprised when he returns with covered receptacles that you hope are disposable.

"Don't know about you, but I've had enough of crowds. Let's go back to the TARDIS, yeah?" he asks softly, his accent heavier than usual, although you're not sure why, except maybe because of the way he enunciates some words. You smile in relief, take your drink, and follow him gratefully. As you sniff the drink, you're even more surprised to find it smells like apple cider, taking a cautionary sip; it's hot, but it does taste like a nice cider.

You sit in a jump seat around the console, sipping your cider, watching him input the return coordinates. You feel something digging into your leg, and fish out the gift, thankful he can't see you. Sticking the gift in your lap, hidden under your baggy shirt, you quickly finish your cider.

"So, did you enjoy your trip?" he asked, facing you after pulling the lever, sipping his own cider.

"Yes, I did, thank you!" you reply, grinning broadly. He smiles in return, a gentle, kind smile.

"What about you?" you ask in return.

"Eh, I suppose it was ok," he says lamely, and you suddenly feel bad, like it's your fault, until you see the amusement in his eyes. But though you flash him a weak smile, you don't feel it. You feel like you ruined his day somehow. You fidget, not sure now you should give him his gift.

"What's that on your lap?" he asks curiously, and you stop yourself from blushing; anyone else, and that innocent question would have been viewed in totally the wrong context. You look down at it, pulling it free, and hold it up to him.

"Oh, it's.... It's just something I found, thought you might like it," you say quietly, not looking him in the eyes. Surprised, he takes the gift, unwrapping the scarf, eyes wide as he stares at the mug. Your heart sinks, and you pull your elbows in close, hanging your head.

"I know it's not great, that you've seen better looking sights, but I just thought that, as much as you drink tea, and occasionally coffee, you'd enjoy a nice mug. I'm sorry. It's not that good a gift," you say quietly, his silence hurting you deeply. So it is a shock that you feel his long, bony fingers gentle grasp your chin, and force you to look at him; his eyes are filled with such pain that you're afraid you'll start crying, and silently curse yourself for being weak.

"[Y/N], this gift means more to me than you could possibly understand. It doesn't matter whether or not I've seen anything better, it's the fact that you thought enough about me to get this for me," he says softly, setting the mug on the console so he can squat down in front of you; you think that must be uncomfortable in those boots, thinking they look a little like shiny, ankle high combat boots. He takes your hands, and you can see the pain in his eyes, and the sympathy. Not pity, although you're sure he feels that too, just sympathy.

"I don't understand, why are so shy? Why did you feel I'd not like it?" he asked, voice now laced with what sounds like pain, but you don't know to what end.

"I don't know... You just looked shocked, and I thought you didn't like it..." you start, but he places a finger to your lips, silencing whatever you were going to say.

"Oh [Y/N], I was shocked because it is beautiful, and very thoughtful. Although I'm not sure what to make of the scarf," he says, looking at the discarded scarf on the floor. You chuckle weakly, and he smiles at you, but it doesn't reach his eyes; he's hurting, deep in both his hearts, as he suddenly realized the real problem. 

"Come with me, we need to talk, and there's not enough seats close enough to do so," he says, standing, and holds his hand out to you, which you take reluctantly. He leads you down a few corridors, never letting go of your hand, which causes your heart to race, in fear. You feel this was it, two adventures together and he's already tired of you, and your insecurities. You're so lost in thought that you fail to notice his shoulders tighten, head hang slightly; you also can't see his eyes tearing up slightly as his very real pain threatens to overwhelm him. Finally he finds the room he's looking for, and you're surprised to find it's a gorgeous library, one with a distinct Persian design, including a small fireplace, with brightly colored tiles for the face. He leads you to a couch in front of the fireplace, and motions for you to sit down. He begins to pace almost before you sit down, and your dispair and embarrassment filling you with dread. You hang your head, clasping your hands together, keeping them in your lap. Minutes pass of him pacing, not saying a word, which only causes your paranoia to skyrocket; your anxiety had long since been replaced with paranoia, making you sure you'd upset him deeply.

"Do you enjoy spending time with me? Going on adventures, I mean," he asks quietly, finally stopping in front of you, although he doesn't look directly at you. The sadness in his voice pierces your heart, making you feel like crying, or running away.

"Yes," you manage to squeak out, not looking at him. 

"Then why are you so afraid of me? Have I done something wrong?" he asks, and you swear he sounds almost terrified; for the first time, you wonder if he has the same insecurities. You feel even more horrified.

"I'm not afraid of you, and you certainly haven't done anything wrong. I just... I'm afraid of doing or saying something wrong, or stupid, and you realizing how bad of a traveling companion I really am..." you answer, voice almost a whisper, and you force back the tears that threaten to spill. 

"Bad of a traveling companion...?" he asks, like as though he can't believe he heard you right. He sits down next to you on the couch, and takes your hands into his.

"What happened to you? Who has hurt you so badly that you think so poorly of yourself?" he asks, voice so sad, even scared, that you look up into his eyes, and you see the tears in his own eyes, and you hurt for you both.

"Nothing happened, no one hurt me, I just don't think I'm a good traveling companion, or a good anything. I'm ugly, fat, disabled, can't run, and am no good for anything other than maybe singing from time to time. Only other thing I'm good at is gaming," you stammer out, trying hard not to cry. 

He pulls you in, hugging you tightly, and you feel the tears hit the top of your head; it's enough to stop you in your tracks. You press your face into his shoulder, arms wrapped lightly around his back, unsure what to do or say. After a minute like that, he pulls away enough to look at you, not caring about the tears on his cheeks.

"How can you say that, [Y/N]? You're not fat, you're certainly not ugly, and it doesn't matter that you're disabled. Do you have any idea how much you really mean? To me? To others? Someone must have really done a piss poor job with you, because I've never met anyone who felt as low about themselves as you. It breaks my heart," he chokes out, letting go of your hands, and stands up, pacing angrily. He sniffles, and you can see how difficult this is for him.

"You worried that what you're wearing wouldn't be good enough for our adventure today, and I thought you just weren't sure if it was appropriate. Now I realize it's because you were afraid of upsetting me, that you don't feel adequate enough to keep up with me. You were afraid I didn't like the gift, and you were- are- terrified that I had decided you weren't good enough to continue traveling with me. Don't try to deny it, I heard your thoughts on the way here, and that broke my hearts. Yes, both of them," he said, angry, afraid, sad, and hurting. He finally stopped pacing to look at you, eyes a stormy blue you've never seen on him before.

"Well I'm here to tell you you're wrong: you ARE adequate. More than adequate, you're worthy. I just wish I could prove it to you.." he started, then squats down and takes your hands.

"I don't care what you wear, as long as it makes you happy, makes you feel comfortable. I don't care how you look, and I'm not trying to be mean. It's because I don't see what's outside, I see what's inside. And you are beautiful, gorgeous, and I feel like I'm too tarnished to be on your company, that you're so much better than me. It hurts me to see you like this, to hear how little you think of yourself. It honestly makes me want to find those that failed you, and give them a piece of my mind. You deserve to be happy, and I feel like you are afraid you don't deserve it. I may not know you very well, but so far, I feel that you're an amazing person. Looks are cheap, it doesn't cost much to get a decent outfit. But personality, that is what makes someone special. And you, [Y/N], are a very special person. I just wish you could see it, like I do," he said quietly, eyes pleading with you to believe him. You hug him, cheek pressed against his, wishing you could feel special, but willing to believe he feels it. And that's good enough for you.


End file.
